No way.
It’s not possible.
One night together already made me flee New York. Any further contact between Stellan and me is just… a terrible, horrible, impossible idea.
Pippa, for her part, looks stunned.
“Oh, I can’t do that,” I blurt out, crossing my arms. “Give it to Pippa!”
Anna glares at me. “If I had my way, the most senior correspondent that usually gets her name on the most bylines would do the story. But obviously I had nothing to do with the choice, due to the fact that we had yet to meet.”
My brow hunches. “Who decided that I would do the story, then?”
“Someone from the royal family, I gather.” Anna scrunches up her face. “The question is, why?”
She puts her elbows on her desk, rubbing her lips. My cheeks immediately redden.
“I’m assuming that you are aware of the American tabloids and their… err… interest in me?” I tuck a strand of pink hair back behind my ear, chewing my bottom lip.
Anna glances at Pippa, then makes a show of pulling several brightly colored tabloid newspapers out of a drawer of her desk. Every single one features me on the cover, usually with an inset photo of Stellan.
She tosses them on her desk and then kicks back in her chair. “I’m familiar, yes.”
I clear my throat, unwilling to be shamed. Not for this, at least.
“I think that this is a bad idea,” I say. “I’m not sure why the order came from the royal family… but I have a bad feeling about it. Why sign up for something when I know out of the gate that I am going to be manipulated in some way?”
Anna glances at her watch and sighs. “This has honestly taken up more time than I care to devote to it. Either take the assignment or don’t…” She smiles coolly. “But if you don’t, you can kiss writing goodbye for a year. You can run research and get coffee for the office but bylines are saved for those who write whatever they are assigned.”
My mouth falls open. “But... I mean…” I shoot to my feet, alarmed. “I… I don’t mean to be picky…”
She stands up, folding her arms across her chest. “Yes or no?”
I quail. “Uhh…”
“Get out,” she says, making a sour face. “I have to call the press office at the palace and tell them that you said no.”
A gray-haired man appears in the doorway of Anna’s office. He’s older, maybe in his late sixties, and impeccably dressed. From the way that Anna and Pippa straighten when they see him, I gather that he’s fairly important.
“Is this Margot?” he asks, smiling widely.
He sticks out his hand to me. I take it, not particularly understanding.
“Hi. Margot Keane.”
“Margot, I am Emil Dall. I’m the managing editor here atPolitiken. I was told you are going to be handling the profile of our royal prince!”
My face heats. “Well, I mean… Anna did bring it up, but I just told her that I don’t want?— “
He cuts me off, not even pretending to listen to my jabbering.
“Great! Anna will give you all the guidance you need. Not that we will be seeing much of you… From what I gather, you will be assigned to shadow Prince Stellan for a few weeks.”
“But— “
“And did Anna tell you about what we are offering as incentive to finish this piece?”
My eyebrows go up. So do Anna’s… which I think means she’s as in the dark as I am.
